


Kneel

by bamby0304



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 23:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16842778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bamby0304/pseuds/bamby0304
Summary: Feelings tend to grow once the seed has been planted. Despite who he  is, and despite the judging looks and whispers from those you live with,  you can’t help but be drawn in by that wolfish grin and those tempting  eyes of his… of Negan’s.





	Kneel

**_Warnings_ : Implied smut. It’s Negan… so language should be a given.**

**Bamby**

Your head hung low as you tried to ignore the looks you were getting from those you lived with. You couldn’t help the guilt that settled in your stomach as the filthy glares multiplied the closer you got to the armory.

It’s not like you _wanted_ this. It’s not like you relished in the fact that you had a positive effect on the harsh leader of the community who had all but ruined your lives.

The Saviours were a bunch of animals. They scavenged and picked at the remains of poor communities who couldn’t fight back. They were the bullies in the school yard, shoving at the weaker kids, taking their lunch money.

Amongst the filthy glares you spotted a few stone set faces.

The Saviours had come to your home, piled into the large and heavy trucks that came every week, filled to the brim with hardened men and women, each carrying at least one gun as their eyes trained on the simple folk who lived in the community. Now they stood around, waiting for orders as their boss talked to yours.

Negan. He was the cruellest man you’d ever met. He led with strict rules and harsh punishments. He took what he wanted, claimed all the land he set his eyes on, and declared ownership over everything and anyone that crossed his path. That included you.

Lucky for your community, though, Negan had dialled down the control and anger when he realised there were assets behind your walls. Equipment that could be used to make weapons and bullets, and people who knew _how_ to make weapons and bullets.

You had no part in that. It’s not that you didn’t know how to do it, or that you couldn’t learn, it was more like you didn’t want to help provide killers with a means to kill…

What you did, instead, was work in the fields. You picked and planted vegetables and fruit. You tended to the gardens, and plucked out unwanted weeds. You watered, fertilized and did everything necessary to produce food for the community. That left you out in the open, and seen by all. That’s how Negan had first met you.

You’d been kneeling in the dirt, digging at the ground with a trowel, when a shadow had loomed over you. Against you better judgement, you’d looked up and found yourself meeting the grinning eyes of the fearless leader. Since then, he’d been quite fond of you.

At first it had been a few small smiles, and some comments here and there- surprisingly none of them had been crude. Then he’d started to call on you, asking for your assistance and whatnot. Then he’d done the unthinkable… he’d asked you to sit with him for lunch.

Too scared to turn him down, you’d agreed… and had actually enjoyed yourself. Sure, there were times you wanted to roll your eyes and slap some sense into him, but he wasn’t as bad as some of the men you’d come across since the world had ended.

The lunch thing had become a re-occurrence. You both got used to each other’s company more and more. Soon enough you relaxed enough to actually roll your eyes when you wanted, and he learnt where the fine line between funny and crass was for you. In a matter of months, you’d began to see him as a sort of friend… and within half a year you’d found yourself more and more drawn to him.

Maybe it’s the lack of options? Maybe it’s a mild case Stockholm syndrome? Maybe you’d lost your mind? Maybe you’d hit your head? Maybe you were just desperate for some male attention and affection? Maybe you were thinking with your hormones more than your brain? No matter the reason, there was something drawing you to the beast.

As you reached the armoury, you looked back to see the glares and stares still aimed your away. They weren’t deaf, they could hear the way he made you laugh. They weren’t blind, they could see the way you looked up at him. They’re weren’t stupid… everyone was aware of your time with Negan, and they despised you for it.

_I always end up being the evil one and I wouldn’t hurt a fly._

Turning away from the onlookers, you set your eyes in front of you and took a deep breath, before lifting you hand to knock your fist against the wood three times.

A moment passed, which gave you some time to remind yourself that what you were doing was perfectly fine. You were being friendly. It’s not like he’d killed anyone. He’s not that bad. He could be worse.

_He could be worse. He could be worse. He could be worse. He could be worse. He could be worse. He could be worse. He could be worse. He could be worse. He could be worse._

You repeated the mantra, over and over again in your mind. It worked, like it always did. You managed to convince yourself that everyone else was wrong.

You weren’t the evil one. You weren’t bad for befriending someone, no matter how vicious their actions could be. It wasn’t wrong. If anything, these days, it was getting harder and harder to make friends with someone who _hadn’t_ killed another person.

Once your mind had been convinced the door opened, revealing the tall, dark and dangerous man. Negan.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t attracted to him. How could you not be? How could you not be attracted to the human embodiment of every villain that had graced the pages of your favourite books?

He was literal darkness and seduction, dressed in that leather jacket and wolfish grin. The temptation of his power, his malicious and capricious behaviour, the warmth of his body that was like the flames of a deadly fire that wanted to engulf everything… it took everything in you not to pool into a puddle of hormones and desperation by his feet.

So maybe you weren’t entirely blind to the reasons as to why you were drawn to him. Maybe it had just gotten worse with every and every encounter you two shared.

Negan looked down at you, his grin firmly in place, eyes twinkling with knowing amusement. He stepped aside, sweeping his arm out in a motion for you to pass. You did, of course, without a word, bowing your head as you tended to when first in his presence. He said nothing either, knowing it would take a moment for you to get comfortable.

Moving to stand by the wall, you waited, doing everything you could not to listen as he and your leader continued with their meeting. You simply waited, knowing Negan would turn to you when he was finished with business and ready for pleasure.

* * *

Negan groaned out, eyes rolling back as he pulled away from the table, looking up at the ceiling as if thanking the heavens for the meal in front of him. The meal you’d made him.

“Fuck.” Shaking his head, he lowered his eyes to you. “You can fucking cook, doll. Makes a man wonder why none of these pricks has snatched you up.”

“Because I’m not an object at some seedy corner store. I’m a woman, and I choose who gets the privilege of eating my food,” you replied, with a sheepish smile as you stood and moved to his side of the table to collect his plate.

Just as your fingers gripped the dish his own hand reached forward, fingers gently wrapping around your wrist. Your eyes widened, glued to where he held you, unable to look at the man himself as he moved to stand. The chair dragged along the floor as he slowly rose to his feet, looking down at you with that signature grin, undoubtedly.

“So, that means you chose me, huh?” You could hear his smirk, smothering his words. He stepped even closer. “So, what’s for dessert, sweetheart?”

Right… you’d forgot to mention…

After months of this, of diners and lunches, cute smiles shared here and there, a slight touch hidden from prying eyes, a brush of skin on skin when alone… you’d caved.

The first time had been when he was about to leave. You’d grabbed him just as the door had opened an inch, just as he’d about to step out into the hallway. Then you’d pulled him back and to you, crashing your lips onto his. He’d taken you right there on the dining table.

The second time hadn’t been so spontaneous… and it hadn’t been spurred on by you. He’d, once again, been about to leave, but opted to try to kiss you first. Just a peck on the cheek. Sweet, gentle, asking for permission, permission which you gave. He’d taken you to the bed that time.

Since then, the two of you had somewhat come up with a routine… and had managed to christen every corner of your apartment… and then some.

It might not be wrong, but it wasn’t exactly right. Spreading your legs for a man like him? It shouldn’t make you shudder, but it did. The memories of him between your thighs echoed all week as you waited for his return, wanting nothing more than to submit to him all over again… and again… and again.

Eyes flicking up to meet his, you let your hand let go of the plate and slide from his grasp as you did your best to seductively lowering yourself to your knees.

His eyes were wide at first, surprised, but he quickly collected himself, signature grin falling into place. “Sweetheart, I was talking about my dessert.”

Your own lips curled into a devilish grin, rivalling his as you undid his belt. “Don’t pretend you don’t want this Negan.” Your fingers flicked the button of his jeans undone. “I may be eating, but you’re getting more than enough out of it.” You slid the zipper down.

**Bamby**


End file.
